The boy who lived and the girl on fire
by ellisaco
Summary: Harry has an affinity for trashy, reality televison. How does this lead him to Katniss Everdeen?


**Based on a prompt from kolms' the girl on fire ficathon on livejournal**

**Prompt: ****HG/HP crossover** _the boy who lived and the girl on fire_

**Prompt by: _chesire**

**AN: posted here because LJ is pissing me off and not letting me reply to comments -_- Sorry if there's any mistakes, but it's late and my hand hurts from typing the whole stupid thing out again in attempts to get it to work for LJ, so I didn't look over it agian.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or the Hunger Games or any of the characters.**

* * *

Disgusting. It was the first thing that came to mind as he watched the promo for the upcoming 'Hunger Games'. He watched footage of the so called reapings, as a ridiculously outlandish woman - who reminded him vaguely of Rita Skeeter - cheerfully called out the names of the children and teenagers to be shipped off to die. When it came around to the last district, a girl volunteered to go in place of her young sister, which seemed to be virtually unheard of.

The special ended with clips of past Hunger Games. Harry turned away in revulsion and finally turned the television set off. Muggles, he thought with a shake of his head, he would never understand them.

Ron popped into the common rooms, startling Harry.

"What rubbish was that I heard you watching? You weren't tuned into that Muggle Television again, were you? I keep telling you, mate, that MTV will turn your brain into troll droppings."

Harry bit back the retort that was just on the tip of his tongue. He and Ron had just got back on speaking terms after the whole Goblet of Fire debacle; he didn't want to risk it.

"It's addicting," he grumbled, trying to hide the blush on his face. "You wouldn't believe the special they had on tonight, though. They call it the Hunger Games and it's essentially twenty-four teenagers in an arena duel to the death!"

Ron gaped at the blank television screen. "Muggles are insane! How have you managed to live with three of them for so long?"

"Not without great difficulty,"

He mumbled something under his breath about not mind if the Dursleys got tossed into a Hunger Games, but it was only half hearted.

Harry heard the shrieking of the fat lady and moments later Hermione breezed through, carrying a book that looked older than the three of them combined. She looked over at the boys suspiciously. Ron was still staring at the dark television, enamored, as if the Hunger Games were playing out before his eyes, and Harry was clutching the remote.

"Were you two watching that god awful television set again? You really ought to pick up a book from time to time." she scolded, lifting the book in her hand. Dust scattered from the pages onto the floor.

"What _is_ that? Ron asked, gesturing to the book. "_Dumbledore, A History_?" He chuckled at his joke; a not so subtle allusion to Dumbledore's age.

"If you must know, I'm doing research on the imprisonment of house elves." she informed Ron, with a self righteous tilt of her chin.

"Oh, not that rubbish again." Ron complained. "How many times do I have to tell you; they _like_ it."

It wasn't particularly diplomatic of Ron to suggest that the house elves enjoyed their enslavement, (not that anyone had ever accused Ron of possessing an overabundance of tact) but if Harry never had to hear about house elves or S.P.E.W. ever again, it would be too soon.

Hermione glared daggers at Ron, then turned on her heel and headed towards the girl's dormitory.

Ron shrugged in indifference. Turning back to Harry he said,

"So, Hunger Games, huh?"

* * *

He watched it a couple times, he couldn't help himself. He at least had the good grace to be ashamed of himself. He watched at night and turned the volume down almost all the way, as he hid under the cover of his invisibility cloak.

He knew it was stupid, but he took a particular shine to the girl that had volunteered for her sister, Katniss Everdeen. (Muggles had the oddest names.) Something about her just caught Harry's attention and he found himself rooting for her.

He watched with baited breath as a group of strong, malicious looking muggles chased her literally up a tree. The charge was led by the boy from her district. (Harry was confused; hadn't the boy said something about being madly in love with her? He chalked it up to muggle insanity and turned his attention back to the screen.)

He almost let out whoop as she sent a nest full of nasty looking insects down on her captors. She was running away from the bugs herself when Harry had to turn the television off, hearing people approaching.

He lay in bed that night hoping that, the girl on fire as they called her, made it through the night.

The next day Harry awoke to a sudden realization; today was the first task of the Triwizard Tournament. Somehow amongst his entrancement with the Hunger Games he had completely forgotten.

Yes, he realized the irony of him judging the muggles and their Hunger Games when he was participating in a tournament that could very well kill him, or any of the other contestants. The very significant difference was that the competitors of the Triwizard Tournament participated of their own volition. (Well, most of them. There was the small matter of one certain, underaged wizard, who, despite all claims to the contrary, _did not_ find a way around Dumbledore's Age Line and enter himself into the tournament.)

Harry burst out of bed and went to find Hermione for some last minute Summoning lessons.

By the end of the final lesson (Hermione would not skip Divination no matter how Harry tried to cajole her) Harry felt quite confident in his Summoning abilities.

The next few hours passed in a blur, and the next thing Harry knew it was his turn and he was being thrust into the arena.

There was a fleeting a terrifying moment in which Harry thought his Summoning spell had failed. His heart pounded loudly in his chest; he had no backup plan. But finally he spotted his Firebolt zooming towards him, and Harry thought it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. (Yes, he had consumed a shot of Firewhiskey prior to the task to calm his nerves. What's your point?)

When his hands closed around the egg the feeling was better than any snitch he had ever caught. He flw back to the tent and deposited the egg safely on the table alongside the other three eggs.

He stepped back outside and he could hear the applause, he could hear the excited voice of Bagman as he went on about the 'dark horse' of the competition. But it all seemed to fade to background noise as Harry watched the dragon-keepers trying to wrangle the Horntail. They didn't appear to be having much luck. Harry frowned at the scene playing out before him; wasn't this their job?

He started, wide eyed, as the Horntail threw Charlie Weasley aside easily and then the rest of the dragon-keepers one by one. The Horntail was now coming straight at him. Everything slowed down and he felt as if he were in a dream, one of those terrible dreams where you want to run but your feet will not cooperate with your brain.

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked in horror.

Harry looked up to see Hermione racing towards him from the stands, but she was too far away. But her screams effectively snapped him out of his daze. He swung his foot around his Firebolt that he was fortunately still gripping in his hand. He kicked off from the ground and shot into the air. The Horntail followed his every move, zigging when zigged and zagging when he zagged.

Harry now knew, without a doubt in his mind, that someone had it out for him. Well, why not? he thought. What school year at Hogwarts would be complete without an attempt on my life? He pushed these thoughts from his mind to concentrate solely on one thing; getting out of this disaster alive.

He flew higher and higher, further and further away. If he could have spared a glance behind him he would have seen that the spectators of the Triwizard Tournament were mere specs in the distance now.

He nearly fell off his broom several times avoiding the razor sharp tail of the dragon and its fiery breath. He was quickly becoming exhausted; he didn't know how much longer he could keep this up. Yes, he played and practiced for Quidditch almost every day of the week, but this was different; he was flying at all out speed in complicated maneuvers.

Oliver often liked to say, 'fly as if your life depends on it'. Now Harry's life really did depend on it, and he couldn't slow down or take a breath like he could in Quidditch.

The very miniscule space of his brain that wasn't being occupied by thoughts of escaping the lethal dragon was wondering why nobody had come after him. Did they think that just because he did so well in the task that he could handle the dragon on his own?

He was barely paying attention to where he was going by now. He was focusing all his energy on not falling off his Firebolt.

All of a sudden there was jarring impact that almost sent him plummeting to the ground below. It reminded him eerily of the time he and Ron had ran into the column between platforms 9 and 10 at King's Cross Station second year.

He looked around wildly, sure that the Horntail must have made contact with him, but to his utter shock the Horntail was nowhere in sight. He had absolutely no idea what was going on, but he wasn't about to let his guard down.

He swept his eyes over his surroundings, trying to get his bearings. His gaze landed on a large cluster of tree through the clouds. He was all the way at the Forbidden Forest? He must have really lost track of how long he'd been flying.

He dipped lower, hoping to spy Hagrid's house, knowing he would find solace there.

Suddenly and incomprehensibly the forest was ablaze, fire licking at the tops of the trees. Harry was shocked into immobility; he could not fathom how a fire could spread so quickly and ferociously.

A terrified scream reached his ears, and without pausing for thought he began a vertical dive towards the glowing forest. On the way down he grew increasingly nervous, as he prayed that he got to the person on time.

He spotted a decidedly female form just below him, only a few precious yards away from the oncoming blaze. He willed his Firebolt to go faster. Finally he pulled up just short of the forest floor and ran the short distance to a girl that was curled up underneath a mossy undergrowth. She was muttering to herself and rocking back and forth slowly. Her back was to him and he saw an angry, red welt on the side of her neck.

He could feel the heat of the flames on his side; they didn't have much time. He shook the girl.

"Get up! There's a fire!"

She didn't respond. He pulled at her arm and she rolled over robotically to face him. He was greeted by a face that he had only ever seen on his common room's television screen. He stumbled backwards in shock.

"Katniss?" Harry breathed out.

Her eyes were wide open and staring, but they were glazed over, as if she were looking right through him.

"Peeta?"

Harry frowned; he didn't appreciate the comparison. He didn't look anything like her light her district mate. Also, he was trying to _save_ her, not hunt her down like an animal.

He heard the hiss of the flames and his eyes widened in fear as he looked to his left; the insurmountable wall of flames was practically upon them.

Harry hauled Katniss to her feet; clearly she was not lucid enough to think for herself. He propped her on his Firebolt, and instructed her to hold on tight. Thank Merlin she did at least that. He jumped on behind her and kicked off from the ground. And not a second too early as the flames converged on the spot they had just been.

Although he had not been paying a lick of attention to which direction he had been flying on the way here, he somehow knew, instinctively, where to go now. Minutes later he felt the familiar jolt, and he knew he was headed the right way. His heart stopped in his chest momentarily as Katniss almost lost her vice grip on the Firebolt, but she quickly righted herself.

The jolt seemed to clear her previously foggy head. Not that that did anything for her peace of mind.

"What the hell is going on?" she shrieked. He could feel her pulse racing madly against his back. "Oh my God, I'm hallucinating. This is a very vivid hallucination, though. Also, if I were hallucinating I wouldn't think I was hallucinating."

She wasn't hallucinating, but she was coming dangerously close to hyperventilating, and that could be dangerous for both of them at this height.

"Katniss, you're not hallucinating." Harry assured her in what he hoped was a calming tone.

She yelped in surprise, as if just realizing that she wasn't alone.

"It's okay," he soothed. "There was a fire; I just wanted to help you."

"How - I mean what?" she stuttered.

"My name is Harry Potter, and I am a wizard."

This was something he definitely was not supposed to say to a muggle, but they were hundreds of feet in the air riding a broomstick; he figured the 'keep the wizarding existence a secret from muggles at all costs' ship had sailed.

"A - a what?"

"A wizard," he repeated patiently. He knew this must all be very confusing and disorienting for her. "I can do magic."

After a long pause she finally said,

"Well, I suppose I've heard of stranger things. Such as a society that enjoys watching the publicized death of teenagers at the hands of other teenagers." she said bitterly.

Harry gulped. He certainly had not _enjoyed _watching the Hunger Games, but he did watch it. And if he contributed to the ratings (Harry did a report last year in Muggle Studies on television ratings), how did that make any better than those that designed the Hunger Games?

"I'm sorry," he offered to assuage his guilt.

"Why are you sorry? You saved my life."

There was silence again and before Harry could respond, she asked,

"Where are we going?" She sounded a little fearful. Harry couldn't blame her for have trust issues.

They broke through the last of the clouds and Hogwarts was cresting in the distance.

He pointed straight ahead. "There,"

A few minutes later they finally touched down in the courtyard. It was a sloppy landing due to Harry's complete and utter exhaustion. He felt bad as Katniss tumbled to the ground, being far less experienced in the matter of flying than he.

The entire school seemed to be gathered in the courtyard, staring up at the sky.

Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Ginny rushed forward from the crowd.

"Harry!" Ron and Hermione cried in unison.

Hermione pulled him into a hug and he nearly collapsed in her arms. He plopped down on the ground unceremoniously, and sucked some much needed air into his lungs.

"Who in Merlin's name is _she_?" Ginny asked in a voice that sounded nothing like her own. (Was it Harry's imagination or did she sound jealous?)

Oh, right.

"Everyone, this is Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire."


End file.
